AND THE KITS KEEP COMING: 2

Got back from the vets after taking a cat from the re-homing centre to be checked and got a call from Carole about a disabled lady who couldn't cope with a stray young cat she'd taken in. I rang her and arranged to call and check out the cat. By a coincidence I'd been booked to collect a load of vinyl albums from a house only a couple of streets away from the lady with the cat.

As soon as I got there I could see that the situation was genuine. The cat was about 6 months old, maybe a little less, male and quiet. Curled up on a settee, he didn't protest when I picked him up and stroked him. Okay, another one for the conservatory, at least at first.

I had to call in at the shop to drop off the heavy boxful of albums and took the opportunity to show the kitten-cat around. Unusually for me I managed to ingratiate myself with a new volunteer by telling her she didn't look old enough to have a four year old son. When she told how old she was I just laughed said that anyone under 40 looks like a bairn to me. The truth is that I'm just crap at guessing people's ages. When I first met Susan I couldn't tell whether she was 35 or 45 (actually 40, same age as me).

I took the cat home and popped him in the conservatory with Growler. Then Susan called round for the van, told me the house was mess. It was. And told me to get the kitten-cat out of solitary. I did and after a while he disappeared behind the freezer where he currently (20.35) remains. I'm taking him to the vets tomorrow for his first flu jab and and to be checked out.

Okay, here he is.

As for his brief room-mate, Growler aka Tut, I can stroke him for much longer than when he first arrived before he attacks. I think he likes me as as he comes to me when I enter the conservatory and purrs when I stroke him. All the same, I wasn't looking forward to getting him in a cat carrier for his trip to the vets.

Luckily, and wearing gloves, I took him by surprise and he was in before he knew it so off to the vets he went. As for what he'd be like when put on the examination table, the question was simply how much of a bloodbath it would be.

Instead he behaved like an angel. Not a growl, not swipe with his claws, not a squirm. He patiently allowed Wendy to do anything he wanted to him, including give him a flu jab.

To finish, some photos of Frankie, Tilly, and Tod cuddling up together.

YO, FRANKIE!

I'm a big fan of late period Dion so that explains the title.

It doesn't? Oh, okay.

Dion (Di Muci) was a 50's teen idol, a tough short Italian-American kid, whose star faded with the arrival of The Beatles and the rest of the British groups. But he never went away and from the late 80s onwards made a series of excellent intelligent albums. One of them (and one of his best) is Yo Frankie (1989) so, having seen his nature, I decided to call the new kitten (see previous post) Frankie-

-because he's a tough little dude (though I gave him the name when I thought he was dudette -the song's about a girl).

After a day I decided to let him out of solitary (semi-solitary, that is, he was sharing the room with Growler) and put him in with the gen pop (general population, that is; of cats). And he fitted in just fine, soon playing with the other kittens and play-chasing them even though they were twice his size. Like I said, he's a tough little dude.

Then last night I got a shock and I couldn't believe I hadn't noticed it before. Embedded firmly in his little head was a number of small ticks. Next morning I took him to the vets, along with (not-so) Tiny who had been booked in to be spayed. Helen, the nurse, who saw him must have removed well over twenty before spotting him with tick-killer. Not just on his head, they were inside his ears and on various other parts of his body including between his toes. 

Just a few minutes ago I found another. The stuff is supposed to take about 24 hours to work completely so I'll check him about eleven tomorrow morning to see if it'll drop off. He's back in solitary till then.

He is a nice little cat and often follows me around or climbs onto my knee (with his tiny sharp little claws) as I sit at this keyboard. Fingers crossed, it won't be long before he gets a home.

Post Script.

We've re-homed another couple of cats from the re-homing centre. But I also transferred Ellie from my house to there. I've got to get the numbers down in my house to about four because it's just too small and, as they currently can't get outside because the only safe way into the garden is through the conservatory (aka solitary/ isolation which has been use from within a month of me moving in.

Also got a new volunteer cat cuddler, a nice young woman who seems keen.

Give Dion a listen, you might be pleasantly surprised.